PART 28: ERNESTO’S RECORDING

Nobody moved.

The red laser remained fixed on Julian’s chest.

Outside, he had no idea someone was watching him through a rifle scope.

Ricardo smiled.

“Now, Isabella—tell me where Ernesto hid the recording.”

“I don’t know.”

He struck the table with his gun.

The plates jumped.

“You have spent fifteen years protecting a dead man. Don’t waste your last chance.”

Isabella looked at me.

Then at the fireplace behind my mother.

“When we were children,” she whispered, “Ernesto used to say the truth belonged where the family gathered.”

Ricardo turned toward the fireplace.

Above it hung our oldest family portrait.

Ernesto stood in the center.

My mother beside him.

Ricardo smiling behind them.

Isabella and I seated in front.

Ricardo ripped the portrait from the wall.

Behind it was a small metal compartment.

My mother’s face drained of color.

Ricardo opened it with the silver key.

Inside sat an old digital recorder.

He grabbed it.

“At last.”

Then pressed play.

Static filled the room.

Ernesto’s voice emerged.

“If you are hearing this, I am probably dead.”

My heart stopped.

The recording continued.

“Ricardo has been stealing from the company for years. Patricia helped him falsify the accounts. Elena discovered the theft, but instead of exposing them, she demanded a share.”

My mother closed her eyes.

Ricardo’s smile disappeared.

Then another voice sounded on the recording.

Isabella’s.

“You can’t trust any of them, Uncle Ernesto.”

Ernesto answered softly.

“I know. That is why everything passes to you.”

Ricardo raised the recorder, preparing to smash it.

But Isabella shouted.

“Wait! That isn’t the only copy.”

He froze.

“Where are the others?”

“Safe.”

Ricardo aimed the gun at her forehead.

“Where?”

She stared directly into his eyes.

“With the police.”

For the first time, Ricardo looked afraid.

Then sirens wailed in the distance.

My mother smiled.

“You thought you controlled everyone,” she said. “But I sent them the address before she arrived.”

Ricardo turned on her.

“You betrayed me?”

“No,” my mother replied. “I finally stopped being afraid of you.”

A gunshot exploded.

My mother collapsed.

Isabella screamed.

The phone fell from Ricardo’s hand.

On its screen, the red laser moved from Julian’s chest to Gabriel’s head.

Then the feed suddenly went black.

The lights inside the house died.

In the darkness, someone grabbed my arm.

I heard Ricardo curse.

Another gunshot shattered the window.

And Isabella whispered beside me:

“Don’t move. There’s someone else in the house.”

Continue Read next part>>PART8: My daughter-in-law called to tell me my son had died and that I wouldn’t receive a single cent. I just smiled, because at that very moment, my son was sitting right next to me—alive, breathing, and listening to every word. Patricia spoke with the voice of a grieving widow. Julian squeezed my hand under the table. And when she said, “He won’t be in the way anymore,” I knew that the trap that had almost killed him had just snapped shut on her.